


The Clothes Make the Man

by VillainbyNecessity



Category: The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Costumes, Fluff, M/M, Oh my god so much Fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF, overuse of the 'baby' and 'babe' endearments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 08:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3439667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VillainbyNecessity/pseuds/VillainbyNecessity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Micky and Davy have some fun with the Monkee's ridiculous amount of costuming</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Clothes Make the Man

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, please don't be too hard on me, although comments and criticism are welcome.
> 
> Mike and Peter aren't at the house for the purposes of this fic - they're probably off having a nice lunch out somewhere
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Monkees

For a struggling band with an empty cupboard, the Monkees certainly had a lot of clothes. Bandits, mafia, cowboys, monsters, devils – you name it, the Monkees had a costume. They could have given them to another band, such as the Martians, or maybe the Jolly Green Giants, and let them change up their image a little. Somehow, instead, they sat folded in a box at the back of a closet filled with broken telephones, useless contracts, chicken feed, and lord-knows what else the group had collected and consequently forgotten about over the years. 

It was by complete chance that Micky ever rediscovered them, in the midst of searching for the remnants of past experiments to reuse. The experiments were, however, left to history at the discovery of the regalia. 

“Hey, Davy, baby, check this out!”

Light footsteps sounded through the house as the smallest Monkee (and Micky's boyfriend of four months) hurried down the stairs.

“What is it Micky? Did you find your stuff? Are Peter and Mike back already?”

“Nah,” he glanced up briefly as Davy entered the room, holding up a blue jockey costume for inspection, “Look at these, though! You remember wearing this?”

The lingering surprise quickly morphed in to thoughtfulness as Davy gave the question some consideration. 

“Yeah...that kid with the horse...where did you find that, anyway?”

“Here in the closet, with a bunch of others. You think there are any more boxes back there?”

Davy stepped forward in lieu of an answer , already sifting through boxes to find more with their costumes and empty them on the floor nearby. They sorted together, and soon they were surrounded my heaps of fabric. Digging straight into the pile, Micky started sifting through the clothes, emerging with and slipping on Mike's embellished matador jacket. 

He twirled, showing off the garment, and the heavy bead work clashed noisily on his too-small frame. Davy giggled.

“Very dashing, Señor Dolenzio.” 

Delighted in his lover's amusement, Micky quickly shed both the jacket and his shirt. He grabbed a the top of the pile for a new one, but his hands found a cape instead. Undeterred, he pulled the scarlet cloth around his bare shoulders. 

He struck a heroic pose, but the effect was lost on Davy, who was already digging through a mound himself. Pausing to mope only a split second, Micky dug right back into his searching, and this time emerged with a red colonial coat – clearly to small to be anyone's but Davy's. Checking that said Monkee was still looking through the costumes, Micky struggled into the coat. Finding a vampire costume that he liked, Davy turned around only to double over in laughter.

Micky was thin enough to fit into the sleeves of the coat, but they ended halfway down his forearms, and the bottom hem only came to his waist – far above where it should have hit. Coupled with the antique style, the overall effect was one of an oversized child – suitable, Davy thought.

Having completed his goal of amusing Davy, Micky quickly shed the uncomfortable coat and turned again to sort through the pile. Davy followed suit. 

“Ah-hah!”

The boys whirled around to face each other simultaneously. Costumes fanned out in the air as they turned to face each other. From each of their hands dangled the thin, glossy white fabric of an angel's robe – Davy's significantly larger than Micky's. 

“Trade ya'!” the cloth once again billowed as they tossed the costumes to their correct owners. 

Pants and a shirt were abandoned (Micky wondered briefly what had become of his shirt), and costumes were donned.

“Ta-da!” Davy whirled about and gave Micky his most innocent look (alarmingly convincing) while Micky crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue in a manic expression. They both fell helplessly into a fit of giggles. 

“I don't know if you'd be an angel, babe.” Mischief replaced the innocence in Davy's eyes as he scanned the floor, eventually reaching down and picking up a pair of devil's horns. 

“You should put these on instead.”

Davy stepped forward to place them on Micky's head, his foot tangling in the discarded vampire costume by his feet. 

An almighty thud resounded as he fell to the floor, toppling on top of Micky and bringing them both crashing down. Gathering his bearings, Davy quickly apologized, his fluster turning his cheeks an embarrassed pink.

“That's okay, Davy, baby! It's pretty comfy down here!”

“Comfy?! Micky, I'm on top of you on the fl- hey!”

Davy yelped as Micky changed position suddenly, putting his hands around Davy's waist and sitting up to lean carefully against the clothing pile, pulling the smaller man fully into his lap.

“Yep, it's comfy alright.”

“Micky! Let me up!” Davy struggled halfheartedly to escape his boyfriend's hold

“Nope!” curly hair flew as Micky shook his head in his own wild manner, “no, no, no, no, no, no, no. no, never!”

After playing along with a few more moments of false protest, Davy surrendered and relaxed in the drummer's thin arms.

“Well, since you've got me, what do you intend to do with me?” his lower lip stuck out in some semblance of a put – a last symbol of mock-defiance.

“Hmm mm,” Micky faked a contemplative look, “I figured that I might hold a ransom, but I couldn't get too much from Mike 'n' Peter. Maybe I'll trade ya' to one a' those wandering merchants for a new tom-tom! Hey, you think I should get a blue one or a – mmph”

“Micky was cut off abruptly by Davy's mouth pressed inelegantly against his own. His joyful grin lasted through the kiss, and lingered when they separated, panting for breath.

“...That works too. I guess the ransom's a better choice after all, If that's the payment.”

“And here I was thinking that Mike was the best of us at handling money. But, hey, if kisses 'ave money value, maybe I should kiss the landlord, too!”

“Well, if the demand's gonna go up, I may just have to raise my prices.” Micky looked smug, and confident enough in Davy's ability to guess where this train of thought was headed.

“Oh, yeah?” Davy was already leaning forward. 

“Mm Hmm...”

Both pairs of eyes fluttered closed. The second kiss was slower, but longer and sweeter, and it held all the sensuality that the first had lacked. Davy's hands wound into curly hair, and Micky's smoothed over the silky cloth covering Davy's small hips. They pressed even closer together, slipping down through the clothes supporting them, until Micky lay flat, with Davy straddling across his waist.

Finally pulling apart once again, both boys stared a moment before bursting into one more fit of hysteria. By the time that their laughter died down, Davy had migrated to lay cuddled up to Micky on the now-strewn costumes.

“...We need to clean up, babe,” Davy commented, but made no move to actually do so, “Mike'll be pretty upset if he finds this mess all about.”

Micky only produced a strangled sound of displeasure, and pulled Davy closer to his side. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know, babe.”

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Davy pressed a kiss to Micky's neck, and pushed himself up off of the floor.

Again, Micky opted against speaking, this time settling for a shining noise from the back of his throat.  
“Come on, Mick.” Davy tugged the angel robe over his head, tossing it at Micky's , who pulled it away to gaze admiringly as Davy put back on his pants and shirt, muscles flexing ever-so-slightly under smooth skin. Too soon, Davy was bustling back and forth, folding and packing away the costumes, and Micky pulled himself up to help.  
Mike and Peter would probably be home soon, anyway.


End file.
